


A Wish She Hardly Dared to Own

by Lady_Ganesh



Category: The Real Ghostbusters
Genre: Angst and Humor, F/M, Ghosts, Mostly Canon Compliant, New York City
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-24
Updated: 2017-10-24
Packaged: 2019-01-22 05:39:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12474680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Ganesh/pseuds/Lady_Ganesh
Summary: On a routine mission, Egon meets a ghost who can't let go of what might have been.





	A Wish She Hardly Dared to Own

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dash_O_Pepper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dash_O_Pepper/gifts).



Egon was halfway up the back stairs when his P.K.E. meter went off. By the time he reached the first floor, the modern walls he'd seen earlier in his tour of the building had disappeared.

"It's coming your way," Ray said into his earpiece. "She's moving slowly, but stay on your guard."

"We get a lot of visitors here, just to look, I know," a woman's voice said, just behind Egon's left ear. "We're a piece of New York legend. This is where Stanford White ate his last meal, before he was shot."

"The architect," Egon said, wiling himself to remain still. It was only a Class 2, but there was no sense agitating it. “Quite the scandal.”

"I served him, once," the voice said. "It wasn't that day, though. It was earlier. Maybe a year before? He was very polite. I could show you to a table, if you like. Martin's has the best food in the city. We don't mind visitors, but we are a business."

"Of course," Egon said. "Of course, I'm--I'm rather hungry."

"Wonderful," the ghost said, and stepped into his field of vision. She had been a woman, probably in her mid-twenties, with her hair in a high bun on the back of her head. Her spirit was wearing a dark dress and spotless white apron. "Do follow me."

"Egon?" Winston's voice came through the comm. "You okay there? Blink your eyes twice or something if you're possessed."

"I've been curious about this place," Egon said. "The murder, well, that was infamous, but the restaurant itself...it’s got such history. So much more than that." With luck, the rest of the team would realize that he was waiting to see what the ghost wanted. The call notes said that the ghost hadn't seemed angry or violent; maybe he could convince her to move somewhere else, where she wouldn't scare people, and they wouldn't even need to use the trap he had ready.

Martin's no longer existed--it was a condominium complex now, as bland and soulless as a carbon copy. If the ghost was connected enough to what Martin's used to be, even as only a Class 2, that presented some intriguing possibilities.

"It's a very romantic place, really," the ghost said. "Do you have someone special, Sir?"

"What? Me?" Egon swallowed. "Wha--well. There might be someone who..."

The condo’s modern setting had disappeared completely. In its place was a turn-of-the-century restaurant, filled with patrons, with light, with life. People were talking, flirting...eating, of course. Everything was cast in a strange, sepia tone, except for--

The woman was slender, her features half-obscured by the broad brim of her hat. She was alone at her table, eating a layered cake with a tiny silver fork.

"Oh," the ghost said. "I'll be--I'll be right with you, just take a seat there." She half-gestured at a chair. She tried to turn her attention toward the woman, but Egon caught her arm first.

"Miss?" he said. "Miss, who is she? That woman, eating alone?"

She turned a little toward him, and for a second, she seemed more aware of her surroundings; as if she'd recognized where and what she was. "Her name's Anna," she said. "She’s an heiress, and lives upstate. She comes here the first of the month, every Tuesday. Always by herself. I think she meets with someone later, after lunch. Her lawyer, perhaps; she's unmarried."

The woman’s nails were beautifully lacquered, her white gloves carefully folded and placed on the table at her side. Her hat was covered in ribbons and silk flowers, and matched her dress. She certainly looked like an heiress.

"She's beautiful," the waitress said. "You'll know, when she lifts her head."

"What will happen then?"

"She'll ask for her check," she said. "And she'll say the cake was lovely. And...and that's all."

"That's all?"

She sighed. "I'm afraid so, Sir."

"Tell me," he said. "What happened?"

"I loved her," she said. "But I--I was just a waitress, and I didn't dare say anything to her. I was hoping--" She sighed. "I always had a hope, I suppose. That one day I'd find the courage. That perhaps...perhaps she'd just touch my hand, when she was paying her check." Her smile was wry. "I waited too long."

"I think--I think you'd be happier somewhere else," he said, as gently as he could. Why wasn't Ray the one she'd decided to talk to? He was friendly. Better with people. Egon never--he wasn't good at this. "This isn't your place any more. And you're both out of time."

"I know," she said. "Sometimes--sometimes I can pretend I'm still here, that I can still--that I still have time. I guess that's what keeps me here. I don't want to lose that feeling."

"I'm afraid you will," he said. "And you might--you might lose who you were. I don't think you want that."

She put a finger to her lips, thoughtfully. "I waited too long. I thought 'maybe tomorrow,' over and over again. And then I ran out of tomorrows. Sometimes...I just like to pretend for a while. To look at her. And it never works when I'm alone."

"You need to move on," Egon said. "I think you know that."

"I know.” She pressed her lips together, and he could see the tension on her translucent face. “But I'll never see her again.”

"This isn't her," Egon said. "It's like a portrait. It never changes. It's not real."

She sighed. "Maybe you're right. But can I just...can I wait on her, before I go? One last time?"

He nodded. "I'll stay with you."

_You sure you're okay, Egon? You're normally not this philosophical._

"I'm fine, Winston," he said. "Give us ten minutes, and I think we can call this clear."

Egon didn't believe in fate, or in signs or superstitions. No one got messages from the next world; ghosts were simply manifestations of unstable paranormal energy that had outlived their physical hosts.

But it still took him aback when the woman lifted her face to smile at her waitress and he saw her bright eyes and brilliant red hair.

 

"Man," Peter said, as they piled back into the ECTO-1. "No slime, no teleportation, no one tried to kill us, the world wasn't at risk...was this even a job?"

"We'll get paid," Winston said, settling behind the wheel. "It's a job."

"I'll never get used to the easy ones."

"You okay, Egon?" Ray said. "You're quiet."

"I guess I'm not accustomed to this, either," he said. "We’re not even taking anything back to the containment unit. Once she made the decision to move on, she was able to do it." He pushed his glasses up on his nose. "A most unusual case. I'll have to write it up in more detail."

She'd smiled, as she faded away. Egon kept seeing that smile.

Egon wasn't a superstitious man.

But he was a trained scientist, and trained scientists didn't ignore the evidence in front of them.

 

"No calls while you were gone, boys," Janine said. "I'd say it's been dead, but that's kind a bad taste, yaknow?" Slimer gave her a look, which she ignored.

"Thanks," Egon said. "No news is good news, I guess--Janine?"

She looked back at him over the top of her glasses.

"I was wondering...if you might be free for dinner. Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Her voice didn't quite squeak.

"I mean, if you're busy--"

 _"No!_ I mean--I don't think I'm busy, just--I can check my calendar, I guess?" She grabbed her bag, and half its contents spilled across the floor: her wallet, tissues, a tube of lipstick--

He went to help her.

"I've got it," she said. "You don't have to--"

"I want to," he said. "Please, allow me--"

His hand brushed hers. Her nails were bright red today. The bracelets on her left wrist caught the light.

"If tomorrow doesn't work," he said, "maybe--"

She grabbed a little book, frantically opened it and thumbed through the pages. "Tomorrow's fine," she said, putting her finger on the right date. "What--do you want to meet here?"

Egon thought of the firehouse, the guys, the faint smell of stale food and diesel that never quite seemed to go away. "I'll pick you up at seven," he said. He wondered if he should rent a car.

"It's a date, then," he said.

"A--oh! Okay!" Behind her glasses her eyes were shining.

That was it, wasn't it. He'd...committed. No turning back, now. "Okay," he said. "I'll--I'll see you, then."

"You work here," she said.

"Oh, right. I'll see you here, too."

"Okay," she said. "Um...can I go home now? I know it's early but the phones have been--"

"Go home," Peter said. "Egon, go upstairs before you say anything you'll both regret. Besides, it's your night to do the dishes."

Egon should have been irritated, but he was too relieved.

"Wait," he heard Ray said, as he went up the stairs. "What just happened?"

"We'll tell you when you're older," Peter said. "Now why don't you order us some pizza?"

**Author's Note:**

> [Here](http://lostnewengland.com/2014/05/cafe-martin-new-york-city/) is a page about the Cafe Martin, where another story of love--or _something_ \--gone wrong took place. [Here's](http://www.theamericanmenu.com/2012/02/the-cafe-martin.html) a vintage menu!
> 
> Title is from "[Maud Muller,"](http://www.bartleby.com/102/76.html) from which the better-known quote "For of all sad words of tongue or pen./The saddest are these: 'It might have been!'" comes from. I hope the waitress finds her Anna again, somewhere in the afterlife!


End file.
